


Episode 4: Inner Demons

by Galaxy_Collector, robinwritesallthethings



Series: Words To Live By (Season One) [4]
Category: Sterek (Fandom), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter Hale, Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternative Werewolf Lore, Angst, Beacon Hills (Teen Wolf), Beacon Hills High School, Beacon Hills Lacrosse Team, Beta Derek Hale, Canon Rewrite, Canon Universe, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, F/F, F/M, Good Peter Hale, Language, Minor Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Pre-Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Sane Peter Hale, Scott Being an Idiot, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Scott McCall (Teen Wolf) Being an Asshole, Scott McCall (Teen Wolf) Being an Idiot, Snarky Stiles Stilinski, Werewolf Hunters, Werewolf Lore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:54:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26639146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galaxy_Collector/pseuds/Galaxy_Collector, https://archiveofourown.org/users/robinwritesallthethings/pseuds/robinwritesallthethings
Summary: When an innocent person dies and all signs point to another werewolf attack, Derek decides to start Scott’s training sooner rather than later in hopes of keeping the rest of the town safe.
Relationships: Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Lydia Martin/Jackson Whittemore
Series: Words To Live By (Season One) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1804672
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ATTENTION: This is a ground floor rewrite of the entire series. While we absolutely adore the actors and the characters they helped shape and mold, the series left a lot to be desired in terms of satisfying character arcs and developments. Due to this, we have decided to rewrite/reimagine the entire series from episode one forward.
> 
> Everything you know about Teen Wolf that was shown on screen may appear in the subsequent seasons/books in the same manner, but a lot has changed. Also, please understand that while Sterek is end game in every sense of the word, this is a very intricately plotted series rewrite by two professional screenwriters. It is slow burn and it is angsty and there will be romance and smut and all the goods, but it is not going to happen overnight. We want each arc to be fully developed and we want the lore to be without plot holes.
> 
> We sincerely hope you like it and while we do not blame Jeff Davis or any of the show writers, we just think the studio probably gave them a framework that was never going to work. Therefore, we thought we'd help them out a bit.
> 
> xoxo,  
> GalaxyCollector

Jackson walked up and down the aisle, Lydia by his side. They had already been here for longer than he would’ve liked, but he put up with a lot to make her happy. It was one of the few good things about dating your best friend. 

Every few seconds, though, Lydia stopped, picked up another DVD case, squinted at it critically, and then set it back on the shelf. And he was getting closer and closer to losing his patience with the whole operation. 

No matter how adorable she was. 

“Can you just pick a movie already, babe?” he huffed. 

Lydia showed him  _ The Notebook _ before tucking it back underneath her arm. “I already picked one. I’m looking for  _ another _ one.” She turned her attention to him, her eyebrow raised. “You could always chip in and pick one, since we’re getting two.”

He shook his head, letting his irritable nature seep into his words. “I’d settle for anything at this point. Honestly. Even another chick flick.”

She scoffed. “You know I hate that term.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered. “Sorry.”

She stopped and turned to him fully, crossing her arms over her chest now. “You’re unusually moody, Jackson,” she commented. “Is this still about Scott? He told you what’s going on, didn’t he? Private practices with Derek Hale. Right? So… let it go.”

“It still doesn’t make sense,” he mumbled, not meeting her eyes. “How’d he get so good so fast? I mean, it’s possible it’s not steroids. Something new.”

She rolled her eyes, but it wasn’t like he needed her to respond. Or even be there, at this point. He’d already been over it with her a few dozen times anyway. There wasn’t anything different to discuss. He just hated it. 

“He was probably doing all that work to make a splash at practice,” she offered. “It’s what you would’ve done.” 

Jackson couldn’t help but give her a pointed look before he chuckled, slinging an arm around her. As much as he would like very much  _ not _ to admit it, she was right. Again. He shook his head and then kissed her temple, finding her utterly adorable, now and always. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I would’ve.”

“Look, if he’s on drugs, it’ll come out eventually, right? Like you said. He’s not better than you, Jackson, if that’s what you’re worried about. If anything, he’s gonna make you look better, not worse. I know you’ve already been scouted a couple times anyway. It’ll be nice for people to see how you work with people on your level, though. Proves that you can handle the pressure.”

“As long as I’m always your star,” he teased, kissing her cheek. 

She giggled, smacking him playfully. “Of course.”

He gave her one last smile before eyeing the shelf in front of them and finally picking out a movie. “This one,” he announced. “And I’ll pay for snacks since I was so grumpy.”

Lydia grinned. “And I  _ might _ let you eat some.”

Jackson laughed again and shook his head, his mood lightening considerably. Not that it was a new situation for them. Lydia had that ability when no one else did, and he loved her for it. 

He steered them both toward the front, only able to make out the edge of the counter where the late night cashier was probably waiting impatiently. One last giggle escaped her lips as he poked her side just as the lights flickered once and then went out. 

Before either of them could react, though, a huge crash near the door had them both thoroughly distracted. But for a much more sinister reason. Not at all helped, of course, by the fact that the clerk they saw earlier screamed loudly. 

“What the hell?” Jackson whispered, pushing Lydia’s body behind him slightly. 

She was completely frozen, except for her shaking hands, as she stared forward. Jackson, however, couldn’t help but take a step toward whatever had happened. He somehow managed to keep himself from jumping out of his skin a few seconds later when her hand brushed his shoulder and began to tug on his sleeve. 

“Jackson?”

He shushed her, but she didn’t stop. “Baby, please. Just be quiet. I’ll get us out of here.”

“Jackson,” she said, this time more forcefully. 

He turned around slowly, unable to keep the frustration out of his voice or off his face. “What?”

She stood just as still as before, but she pointed into the darkness down one of the aisles to the left of them. 

“What is that?” she hissed, pointing to a pair of red eyes glowing deeper within the store. 

No longer in control of his body, Jackson took a step toward it instead of what all his other senses were telling him to do, which was to leave as quickly as possible. It was like he was drawn to it. Whatever it was. 

But before he came to it, whatever  _ it _ was, it turned and leapt out the front window. The both of them ducked as it rushed past them, leaving a trail of glass in its wake. As soon as it had cleared the store, the lights came back up and the chaotic scene was revealed in one fell swoop. 

Lydia moved around Jackson next, as if pulled forward by some unseen force, running full speed toward the counter. Her high heels made soft thuds against the ancient carpet, but it didn’t dull Jackson’s reaction to it. He knew it was serious, but the next few moments would prove to him just how bad his night had become. 

“Jackson! Call 9-1-1!” 

He wasn’t sure how it had gotten there, but his phone was already in his hand and he found himself calling without any recollection of dialing. He caught the end of the counter and came face to face with the most unlikely scene to hit the sleepy town of Beacon Hills in forever. 

There was blood everywhere, and Jackson didn’t miss the huge gashes all over his body either. Lydia stared in horror as Jackson swallowed hard, unsure of how to handle any of this as he waited and prayed someone would pick up soon. 

“Lydia, is… is he still alive?” 

He had no idea why he asked her that, but he felt compelled. Like everything else that had happened since the lights had gone out. 

But all she seemed to be able to do in return was scream. Louder and longer than he had ever heard in his life. 

The sleepy little town was sleepy no more. 


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles’ leg had been bouncing uncontrollably since the call had come on his dad’s radio. They’d only been on the clock for a grand total of five minutes when it had crackled loudly, signaling some life was still left in the old machine. Based on the way it looked, you’d never assume that to be the case. 

But it was when they came into the parking lot, already swarming with other cops, that made his heart leap into his chest. For one thing, there was a body bag. The second one Stiles had seen in their tiny, normally very sleepy town, in the last few weeks. For another thing, both Jackson and Lydia seemed to be in the center of the madness. 

He hardly had time to take in the rest of the scene before his dad parked and he was out of the front seat as fast as his feet would carry him. He put his hands in his pockets as he approached them, trying to slow his pace and make himself seem as non-threatening as possible. The last thing either of them seemed to need was someone rushing up to them with the million questions running through Stiles’ head. 

Not that his head was ever a particularly quiet place to begin with. 

“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit,” he whispered under his breath as he took in the large broken window behind them. “Hey, guys. You okay?”

Jackson shrugged, but didn’t move from where he was draped around Lydia. She had his jacket on and he was rubbing her shoulders, but the look on her face told Stiles she was anywhere but here currently. Her eyes were completely glazed over, and for the first time since he had met her, she looked fragile. Vulnerable even. 

It made Stiles uneasy. 

“We were picking out movies,” she began, her voice hoarse. “The lights went out, and there was so much noise. It sounded like an animal, like, eating someone.”

Stiles’ head snapped upward again from where he’d been staring at the ground, scuffing his tennis shoes against the asphalt at the mention of yet another animal attack. 

“An animal?” he asked. 

Jackson nodded. “Yeah, but man, it was too tall, you know? Like, if it was an animal, it was standing on its hind legs or something. We could see its eyes behind the counter.”

“Red eyes,” Lydia whispered suddenly. “It had red eyes, Stiles.”

She finally looked at him when she said the last bit, speaking the words directly to him and no one else. It made the world disappear, but not in the way he ever imagined it would when she did that. A shiver ran down his spine as a coldness seemed to descend on the scene. 

“Red eyes?” he repeated unnecessarily. “What… what else did you see? Like see see. Not guessing. What did you see?”

He could hear his dad making his way over to them, and he knew he wasn’t going to get another answer out of them without an audience, but he didn’t really need any further information either. This was plenty to go on. And, thankfully, he knew just who to call. 

“Leave the questioning to me and my people, okay, Stiles?” his dad said, clapping him on the back and jolting him back to reality. 

Stiles nodded and smiled to his dad, pulling out his phone in the process. He angled it away from anyone who might be dumb enough to try and read it as he tapped away on the keyboard furiously fast. 

“Yeah, Dad. Sorry,” he mumbled. 

He pocketed his phone just as his dad went into full Sheriff mode, pulling out his trusty pad and pen. 

“I was just worried about them,” he explained. “They’re my friends.”

“I know, son. I know,” he said, taking Stiles’ explanation at face value. “Look, once I’m finished, you can go with them, okay? Make sure they get home all right.”

Stiles nodded. “Sure, Dad. Thanks.”

He then did what he had been trained to do. He stepped back. But he wasn’t new to this either, and he lingered. Anything juicy enough, he’d hear later, but he didn’t want to make them relive what was clearly a traumatic experience for them both on his account. 

It seemed cruel. 

“All right, kids, I don’t want you to worry too much. I know that this was very scary, but right now it’s looking like an animal attack,” he confirmed again. “I still need statements, but we can do them right here, if you want, or we can go to the station and wait for your parents. Technically, I should wait because they’re supposed to be here, but I know both your parents, so it’s up to you. You’re both almost eighteen, right?”

Lydia nodded. “Yes, sir,” Jackson answered. “Here is fine.”

“Let’s start with when you got here, then,” Stiles’ dad started softly. “Did you notice anything out of the ordinary?” 

Jackson looked down to Lydia, but the same glassy nothing look was back. “Uh, we got here around eight, I think,” he began, looking back to the Sheriff. “Just to pick out a few movies. The, uh…,” he paused, swallowing hard, “guy. The one who, um, died. He was at the counter when we came in. He seemed… bored. I guess. We were the only ones in there the whole time.”

His dad was writing quickly as Jackson spoke, and even though it might seem impossible for someone to be able to make any sense of his handwriting, his dad knew exactly what it said. And that’s really all that mattered, which Sheriff Stilinski reminded him often. 

“You didn’t see the animal, though? No signs that one had been in there?” 

Jackson shook his head. “No, sir. Nothing.” He looked over his shoulder back into the store and then back to them again. “I mean, it coulda been in there, but we were only in a few aisles.”

“Can you tell me anything about the actual attack? Did you notice anything as it was happening?”

“No, sir. Not really,” Jackson admitted. “The lights went off. We heard more than we saw. And I guess it sounded like an animal attack. I mean, I’ve never heard one, so…”

“Right. Of course,” his dad said. “What, uh, what happened after that?”

“Red eyes,” Lydia whispered shakily, barely audible. 

Stiles’ head snapped up again and even his dad paused his writing, his pen poised over his paper like he didn’t quite understand what she meant. 

“Red eyes?” 

Jackson nodded. “We saw red eyes over the counter. Right before… whatever it was jumped through the window.”

“How did it have red eyes?” Lydia asked, undeterred by Jackson’s comments. Almost as if she hadn’t heard him. “They didn’t look… natural.”

“Probably a trick of the light,” Stiles’ dad offered. “Especially in the dark.”

Stiles studied their faces to see if either of them were accepting his dad’s explanation. Lydia, however, wasn’t reacting enough to anything outside of herself to be able to tell, and Jackson was concentrating on her while trying to answer questions. 

He swallowed hard, and a little nervously, as he noticed the way Jackson’s lips were set in a thin line. Stiles knew that look, and it didn’t bode well. 

Not for Stiles anyway. 

“And after that?” his dad continued. 

“Umm, the lights came back on and we saw the blood on the counter. Lydia took off to check on him and I called 9-1-1,” Jackson divulged. 

He squeezed her shoulders as she nodded along automatically. 

“And he was, uh, already dead? As far as you know?” his dad asked, directing his attention at Lydia.

“Yes,” she answered, more decisively than anything else she’d said until now. “He was definitely dead.”

Sheriff Stilinski nodded one more time, shut his pad, clicked his pen closed and put it in his shirt pocket before turning back to them. 

“All right, you two. I think that should be good. If I need any more details, I’ll be in touch.”

“Wait, uh, sir,” Jackson said, reaching out slightly when he moved to leave. “It doesn’t make… sense. What kind of animal was it?” He let his hand drop and put it back around Lydia. “Why could we see its eyes over the counter? What kind of animal is that tall?” Jackson moved until he could lean in closer. “And the power going out? It went out just before the attack and came back on right after. That doesn’t track.”

His dad laughed easily. “Slow down there, Junior Detective Whittemore. You been hanging around Stiles too much or something? You’re starting to sound like him.”

Jackson blinked at the brush off and glanced at Stiles, who shrugged apologetically. 

“Listen, we’ll check with the power company about the outage. It was probably just a flicker. You know how this area of town can be when it comes to that. And there were some pretty big gusts of wind tonight.” His dad put his hands on his hips. “As for the height, well, the animal coulda been standing on something, or gearing up to jump.” 

Stiles ran a hand through his hair nervously when he could tell Jackson wasn’t going to let this go. But his dad stepped back in, obviously able to tell that much. 

“I don’t know if you know this, but Beacon Hills has a history of odd animal attacks. Ask Stiles. He knows all about that.”

“Way to make me sound like a nerd in front of my friends, Dad,” Stiles complained. 

His dad just laughed and shook his head. “If they’re your friends, Stiles, they already know that, son.” 

“Gee, thanks,” Stiles joked. 

“I’ve gotta go inside and check everything out,” his dad said. “You kids are okay to go home. Stiles can be your official police escort.”

“Great. I feel safer already,” Jackson muttered sarcastically. 

Stiles snorted. “You should. I have a direct line to the sheriff.”

“Exactly,” his dad said, pointing to him. “See you kids, later. Call me if you need me, okay?”

“Sure thing, Dad.”

As soon as he was out of earshot, he turned to Jackson and Lydia, neither of which had made the move to leave. “Why don’t we get you guys out of here, huh? Grab some pizza or something? We can watch those movies you picked out?” He paused, realizing he had just invited himself on what was probably their date. “Unless, um, you wanted to be alone.”

Surprisingly, Jackson shook his head. “Nah. Pizza sounds good. I’ll pick up the tab. You rode with your dad, right?”

Stiles nodded. 

“My car’s over there. You can come with us.”

“Thanks, dude,” Stiles answered sincerely as they began to walk to the car together. 

As soon as Lydia was tucked away in the passenger seat, all buckled up and wrapped up in his jacket still, Jackson grabbed Stiles’ arm before he could get in. 

“I wanna know more about the, uh, animal attacks,” Jackson demanded. 

“Uh, sure, dude. I can tell you what I know,” Stiles conceded. 

In all honesty, there was no point to keeping him all the way out of the loop anymore anyway. If there really was a problem, he didn’t have to tell them everything. But he could tell them enough to keep them safe.


	3. Chapter 3

Derek stood in the kitchen, leaning casually against the counter, all his muscles tensed as he stared at the clock on the wall. He’d been trying to will it to slow down, but nothing was working. No matter what he did, it was still trekking along like Derek’s opinion on the matter was irrelevant. 

He’d stayed up most of the night worried about Peter, and since he’d been unable to get a hold of him, he had dreamed up all the worst case scenarios. Something that Derek hadn’t had to do in such a long time. And given his history and the associated trauma, it wasn’t that big of a stretch either. 

Or that’s what multiple therapists had told him over the years. 

Derek took another slow, lingering sip of his steaming coffee as he stared at the door now before turning to his phone and sighing heavily. 

When the front door jerked open a few minutes later, he nearly jumped out of his skin. He’d been in such a trance, still trying to figure out his next moves should any of his waking nightmares come true, that he hadn’t heard Peter walking up to the house. 

“Peter?” he called cautiously. 

As the man of the hour walked in, looking a little frustrated himself, the relief was instantaneous for Derek, and all his earlier irritation faded away. Derek was just glad he was okay. 

“Coffee?” he asked, motioning toward the machine. “I’ve been out all night.”

“Yeah, just made it,” Derek answered, rushing over to make him a cup. 

Derek busied himself with the buttons, refusing to look back at his uncle. He didn’t want him to see the tears threatening to spill as he let himself fully realize how scared he had been. He knew if Peter had been out, there was a good reason for it. But that didn’t make him feel better either. 

When the cup filled much quicker than Derek was prepared for, he walked it back over to Peter carefully, placing it on the island where he was laying his head. 

“Where, uh, have you been?” Derek asked timidly. “I texted you a ton of times.”

Peter nodded. “I was looking into who bit Scott,” he answered, blowing across the top of his coffee. “Phone ran out of battery a while ago. I was on foot for most of it. I need one of those, uh…” 

He made a motion with his hands to try to illustrate what he meant, but Derek didn’t understand at first. Then it hit him. 

“Mobile chargers?” 

“Yeah, the ones that look like little sticks.”

Derek snorted his laughter. “Sure, we’ll get one when we go out.” He shook his head. “Did you find anything?”

Peter shrugged again. “What’s going on that’s so important?” he asked, effectively changing the subject. “Scott’s all right, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, Scott’s fine,” Derek answered. “I mean, as fine as he gets at the moment, I guess.” He shrugged. “It was Stiles who texted me, actually. Something happened at the video store. It set his, uh, wolfy sense off.” 

He hated it, but he made the air quotes as necessary, not wanting Peter to think those were words he’d ever use seriously in any context. 

Peter chuckled low. “That boy is something else,” he replied. “What did you find out?”

Derek shrugged again. “Stiles sent me a picture of his dad’s preliminary report and it seems like they’re agreeing it was an animal attack. The video store clerk is dead, though. Killed by said animal.”

“Well, this is Beacon Hills. It could’ve been an actual animal attack. We back up to a wildlife reserve on one side and a mountain range on the other. It’s not that big of a stretch. You know that.”

“Yeah, I know,” Derek said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. It’d been forever since he’d done that, especially in front of Peter, but there was something about the whole scenario that reminded him of when he was a teenager, and he’d been scared to be honest with him for no reason whatsoever. “It’s just that, uh, Jackson Whittemore and Lydia Martin were there. They both saw red eyes. And Jackson insisted that the eyes were too high up to belong to any animal he knew of.”

Peter nodded along to Derek’s rambling story, but didn’t offer anything, so Derek continued. “As much as I hate this phrase, I think Stiles is right. We have a, uh, what’d we used to call them? A furry situation on our hands.”

Peter laughed outright at that one, his eyes shining like they always did when he really thought something was funny. Derek was bolstered by the idea that it was him that had caused that reaction too, since they had very little to truly laugh at these days. 

“All right,” Peter began when he calmed down again. “What about this kid, Jackson? That’s the lacrosse star on your team, right?”

Derek nodded and swallowed hard. “Yeah. Super trustworthy kid. Good head on his shoulders. I don’t think he’s wrong about what he saw, or making anything up. He definitely isn’t stupid enough to be drunk or high or anything.” 

“Agreed,” Peter offered. 

“And he’s been after Scott at school too. Thought he was on drugs. Honestly, I’m a little worried he might be putting too much together.”

“Ah. Well. We’ll deal with that if we have to,” Peter agreed. “Scott’s eyes aren’t red, at least. So it’s not him. And the Sheriff doesn’t suspect anything unusual, right?”

“No. He thinks Jackson and Lydia are just freaked out, you know?”

“Still doesn’t change that we need to have a good look at the body,” Peter conceded. “Is it in the morgue yet?”

Derek took another slow sip. “Got transferred super early this morning. There shouldn’t be anyone around it at the moment. They don’t have a pathologist on hand at Beacon General since Jenkins left, and it’s not a huge priority, so no one’s coming until tonight, I think.”

“We can go now, then,” Peter said, hopping up. 

“Don’t you need to sleep? You’re kinda old now. You can’t exactly pull all-nighters like you used to,” Derek teased. 

Peter put a hand over his heart and staggered dramatically. “You wound me, nephew.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Oh, God. Don’t start that nephew shit again,” he grumbled. 

“You loved it when you were a kid,” Peter said, walking around the island and bumping his shoulder playfully as he walked toward the sink with his mug. “You used to make me say it instead of your name, remember?”

“Yeah, a kid. I was, like, five or something.”

“Look, we’ll go check it out, then we’ll have breakfast and I’ll go to sleep. All right?”

“Fine,” Derek assented. “Just don’t fall asleep on me.”

“I promise.”

Derek nodded for what felt like the millionth time before downing what was left in his own coffee mug and sitting it in the sink next to Peter’s as he headed to the key hook and pulled off his own before his uncle had a chance to protest. Peter rolled his eyes at Derek’s overprotective behavior as he headed to the car, closing the front door behind both of them as they headed out to greet what was sure to be an interesting day.


	4. Chapter 4

Derek wasn’t as prepared as he would have liked when they pulled up to the visitor’s entrance of the hospital only ten minutes later. He both loved and hated that they lived so close, and right now it was more on the hate side of things. 

Peter being out all night had really thrown him for a loop, and he hadn’t realized how much he had come to depend on him being a phone call away at all times. And most of the time it wasn’t even that far. Usually he could reach out and touch him, like now, but last night had been different. And it had felt different. 

A situation he didn’t want to repeat. 

They got out of the car shortly after they parked, again leaving Derek no time to collect his thoughts, and Peter stretched wide and yawned loudly as he stood up to his full height again. 

“We should’ve waited until you had a nap,” Derek insisted as they walked toward the entrance. “This was a bad idea.”

“You need to chill out,” Peter said, another yawn threatening to take over. “I can handle myself just fine. I’m not that old.”

He gave Derek a wink, which only caused him to roll his eyes in return, as they stopped outside the sliding glass doors just enough not to set off the sensors. They both peered through, trying desperately not to look like creepers, as they assessed the situation. 

“That’s Scott’s mom at the front desk,” Derek explained. 

“I always thought she was pretty,” Peter said absentmindedly. Derek was sure he didn’t need to be here for this part of the conversation, but it wasn’t like Peter even really noticed anyone else was around when he spotted a gorgeous woman. “I can get us past her.”

Derek snorted his laughter. “Melissa McCall is a badass. You are not going to be able to flirt your way past her.”

This time it was Peter’s turn to roll his eyes. “Well, if you prefer, sneak past me while I’m horribly failing at flirting with her and let me in the back.” 

“Better,” Derek said with a chuckle. “But I will admit it’s going to be fun watching you crash and burn at this. Been a minute.”

“How much are you willing to bet on it?” Peter asked, straightening out his shirt. 

“Dinner from that expensive Italian place one town over,” Derek offered with a smirk. “Werewolf-sized dinner. For me, you, Scott, and, hell, even Stiles.”

“You’re on,” Peter conceded. 

Derek reached out without hesitation and shook Peter’s hand in agreement as they both sauntered forward slowly, Derek a few steps behind intentionally. 

“Have fun at your funeral,” he whispered. “I’ll be right behind you.”

Peter stood up as tall as possible, briefly squinting at his reflection in the window as he passed it to check his overall appearance, before heading inside finally. He had been out all night, was working with no sleep or even a shower, and yet he still looked like he always did. One of the many reasons why Derek Hale had a confidence problem. 

As he watched his uncle loiter next to a sign while he waited for Melissa to be free, he took stock of him for the first time since this morning. He had been too distracted by the fact that he wasn’t dead in a ditch somewhere, so he hadn’t paid that much attention. 

To start, his arm was sporting a few bruises, which meant that earlier that night it had been much worse. He knew better than to ask, though. Peter had always had a habit of keeping the worst from Derek, citing the fact that he was supposed to shield him from the bad stuff. Not that Derek needed him to anymore. But it didn’t matter. Old habits died hard in the Hale Pack, and they were both living proof of that. 

The minute Melissa was free, Peter sidled up to the desk and plastered on his best smile. It was the one Derek had seen work very well over the years, and he prayed it would again. Or, at the very least, he’d get a good show out of it when it didn’t work. 

“Pardon me,” Peter began softly. “I’m hoping you can help me.”

Melissa looked up at him slowly, from where she had been shuffling papers around on the desk that Derek couldn’t see from where he stood. 

“Of course. What can I do for you, sir?” 

“Sir makes me sound so old,” Peter complained playfully. “And I’d hate to be too old for a woman as beautiful as yourself.”

Melissa laughed heartily, wearing the same smile Derek had seen on Scott many times when he was messing around at practice with Stiles. “You must want something I’m not supposed to give you,” she observed astutely. 

“I don’t even remember what I wanted anymore,” Peter answered with a shrug before glancing at a pamphlet display beside her. “Maybe, uh, a pamphlet?”

“In the market for a pamphlet, huh?” she asked politely, raising an eyebrow. “Menstrual cycle? STDs? Oh, I got it. Vasectomy?”

She grabbed the last mentioned brochure and plopped it down on the counter between them, daring him to be more outlandish than he had already been, and Derek was eating it up. He knew he needed to sneak past, but he was having way too much fun now. 

Peter wrinkled his nose. “No thank you. How about this one?” he picked one up and Derek nearly burst out laughing. “Safe sex. Always important. Especially when I ask you to dinner and back to my place afterward.”

“You know, I bet that pretty face and tight v-neck get you almost everything you want, don’t they?”

Derek had to hand it to her, she really wasn’t a woman to be trifled with. And if Scott had even half as much of that spunk, he would be just fine during his transitions and training sessions. She actually reminded him of his own mother. Strong, a little sassy, and definitely possessing the ability to see through anyone’s bullshit. It was nice to know that hadn’t disappeared entirely from Beacon Hills when Talia Hale had vanished from his life. 

“Maybe,” Peter agreed finally. “Did it work?”

Melissa shook her head with another gentle laugh. “You are far too young for me, sir. But is there anything I can help you with. For real?”

Derek walked past quickly, realizing the fun was over, not looking back but keeping an ear out to hear the end of their conversation as he headed to the back door where he needed to meet Peter. 

“No. I know when I’m beat,” Peter acknowledged. “As much as it hurts me.”

One last look from Derek as he rounded the corner saw Peter with his hand over his heart as he gave Melissa his best puppy dog eyes, making her and Derek both laugh and shake their heads again. 

“Points for persistence,” she confessed. “I can help the next person.”

Derek wasted no more time as he made a beeline for the door in question, knowing if he wasn’t careful Peter would end up beating him there and then he’d know that Derek had witnessed the pitiful display. Probably the last thing he wanted. 

Thankfully, when he made it, Peter had just showed up, and Derek shut the door behind him as they both headed for the morgue just down the hallway they were already in. 

“So…,” Derek said slowly. “When’s dinner?”

Peter huffed lightly. “Pick your night,” he mumbled. 

Derek chuckled again as they headed into the familiar room, holding the door open for Peter as he went first. Derek hated this room, in all honesty, but right now it held the key for their latest mission. Right now, he reminded himself, it couldn’t be the place he had identified his mom and sisters’ bodies. 

Peter didn’t falter as he made his way to the wall of cadaver refrigerators, obviously not weighed down by the memories that were plaguing Derek. 

He opened the one drawer with a tag on the outside and pulled the tray out, unzipping the black body bag. Derek wanted desperately to stay present in the moment, but he knew it was impossible. Leaning into it, and letting it take over fully, wasn’t an option either. So he closed his eyes and let himself have one full second as that awful night washed over him, threatening to pull him under. 

“Definitely right for a werewolf attack,” Peter commented, jerking Derek back to the present. 

When he opened his eyes again, he was back where he should be, and he walked forward quickly to stand next to Peter. “Are they a little… too clean?” he asked, observing the wounds. 

Peter shrugged. “A werewolf with suitable control could make cuts that clean.” He tilted his head to get a look from another angle. “I can make cuts this clean. When I concentrate.”

Derek nodded. “Yeah. I’ve seen you do it,” he assented. “I guess I’m just hoping for something to be off, ya know?”

“Understandable.” Derek could feel Peter’s eyes on him as he studied the body, his brows furrowing deeper. “You still think something is off, don’t you?” he questioned. 

“It just doesn’t… feel right,” he admitted. 

“What makes you say that?” 

“I do smell a werewolf on the body, but it’s… light, I guess is the word I’m looking for,” Derek added. 

“And if he was slashed from a distance, the scent wouldn’t be strong,” Peter argued. “The body’s also been sitting in here for a while. And has been handled by multiple people.”

He listed off each reason like it made perfect sense, and Derek knew that it did, but his gut was telling him something different. Something he couldn’t quite articulate. 

Peter took a long whiff and then started to cough. “Plus this guy absolutely reeks of ganja,” he said, covering his nose. 

Derek couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, I got that too.”

“Clearly the video store doesn’t drug test in Beacon Hills,” he said, waving his hand around to break up the smell. “Good to know.”

They both stared at the body for a solid minute before Peter reached over and zipped the bag back up and closed the drawer. 

“Well, without any other theories,” Peter piped up, “I’d say it’s a wolf. Maybe even the same one that bit Scott. Which means we have a problem on our hands. Possibly a big one.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets as they walked back the way they came. “If this… let’s call it a rogue since we have nothing else to go on here. If this rogue continues to get out of h and, regardless of the reason, we need to start training Scott. Like…yesterday.”

Derek pushed the swinging door back open as soon as it was clear. “You’re right,” he answered with a deep sigh. “I’ll talk to him after practice.”

“You can’t take no for an answer this time, I’m afraid,” Peter emphasized. “Whatever did this isn’t going to hold back, so we can’t either.”

Derek gave him another nod, but didn’t say anything else. He had been afraid of hearing those words since Stiles had called him, and now that it was all but confirmed, it did little to make him feel better. He had always assumed knowing would set him free in these instances, and they never did. It made it worse somehow. 

But Peter put his arm around Derek’s shoulder, and he was reminded that no matter what happened, no matter who came after them, he wasn’t in this alone. That’s all that could mean anything. That’s all that ever had before anyway. 

As they walked back out into the bright sunlight, each off to do their own thing, Derek to teach and Peter to sleep, he knew that they were at least going to have something to come back to at the end of the day. And with as bad as it had been in the past, it was nice to know they had that.


	5. Chapter 5

The sun was setting as Stiles did his homework on the back porch of Peter and Derek’s home, like he had for the past week as Scott ran drills. It wasn’t exactly fair, but Stiles was the only human in the bunch, and he knew he didn’t really want the alternative either. 

Besides, homework wasn’t that bad. 

He slowly ate the sandwich Derek had gifted him as he answered questions and filled in worksheet after worksheet for the both of them. Most of it was easy, and anything he hadn’t known so far, Peter had been kind enough to fill in the blanks when he needed it. 

After a full week, a nice routine was forming. Well, it was nice for Stiles. Scott’s not-so-subtle huff from across the yard told him that he would trade with Stiles in a heartbeat. 

“How many more times do I have to do this?” Scott whined. “You said ten runs was trained.”

Stiles pulled his attention away from his own tedious assignment in time to see Derek with his hands on his hips as he shook his head. “I said do ten and we’d talk about it,” he reminded Scott. “And you did ten, but I decided it wasn’t good enough. What do you say we aim for a hundred?”

Stiles smirked and ducked his head, noticing Peter was doing the same thing out of the corner of his eye as Derek used his stern coach voice. Stiles was so used to being on the receiving end of it, he was itching to stand up and run a lap. A conditioned response, clearly. 

“Are you serious?” Scott growled.

Peter jogged down the few steps that led out into the yard and Stiles no longer tried to hide that he was paying attention. He was allowed to be in the know here, so he reasoned he might as well take it. Scott would want to rehash the entire session later anyway. 

Derek’s eyes widened and he advanced toward Scott about the time that Peter made it to the pair, putting a hand on Derek’s shoulder to stop him. 

“I know it seems excessive, Scott, but the key to learning control is repetition,” Peter offered. “You can’t be too confident when you’re in the thick of things. You have to assume that you’ll lose all that carefully constructed control at any time. That way you’ll always be prepared. Okay?”

“I am in control, Peter,” Scott groaned, throwing his hands up in the air. “How do you even know this is the best way to train me? It's not like you guys have a real pack.”

Stiles bit the inside of his cheek to keep from visibly wincing on the off chance that anyone was going to look his way soon. Scott knew better than that, and yet he kept insisting on bringing up things that it was obvious both Derek and Peter would rather forget. 

Stiles knew his friend was beyond aggravated at the way things had turned out, especially since he couldn’t live in his blissful ignorance bubble anymore, but goading two grown-up werewolves really didn’t seem like a smart move. Something that he had told Scott more than once lately. Clearly it wasn’t making much of an impact. 

As much as Stiles hated the idea for Scott, he was starting to think him getting his ass handed to him by one or both of them might help it sink in. Nothing else was working. 

“Enough,” Derek bellowed. “We were all trained this way in our family, so we know it works.” He took a deep breath and put his hands on his hips, steadying himself. “Listen, Peter and I trained together,” he started again, his voice more even and much lower. “We helped train my little sister Cora too. It works. I promise. You just have to trust me. Trust us.”

Peter’s jaw flexed enough that Stiles could see it all the way from the porch now. Whatever he was going to say was clearly caught in his throat, and he didn’t seem capable of forming words anymore. Not nice ones, anyway. 

Scott opened his mouth, about to argue again, when Stiles stood up and dumped everything out of his lap onto the porch. “Scott. Don’t, man,” he warned. 

Scott shot him a sideways glance, still glaring angrily, and Derek did the same, but his was much softer. More grateful. Something inside Stiles warmed at the sight, but it wasn’t something he had time to concentrate on as Peter stormed off, bypassing the house completely. 

When Stiles turned back to the other two, he noticed that Scott’s fists were unclenched and he looked appropriately sheepish after his outburst. 

“Am… am I out of the pack?” 

“You’re a dick,” Stiles called from the porch before hopping over the railing to join them finally. “You know that, don’t you? You can be so insensitive sometimes.”

“I…”

“No, stop,” Stiles interrupted. “You know their whole family died. It was the biggest fucking thing to happen in Beacon Hills in forever. Or since. That’s why they don’t have a pack, you idiot. They all died. You don’t think before you speak, and it’s gonna get you in trouble one of these days. They should kick you out.”

Derek laid a hand on Stiles’ shoulder as he got close enough, not realizing that now it was him that was on the war path toward Scott, his eyes blazing. He stopped, unable to do anything different with Derek’s hand in the way. His strength made it feel like Stiles had stepped in front of a huge boulder. As tough as he felt sometimes, there was no going up against that kind of strength. 

“It’s okay, Stiles,” Derek issued softly. “Thank you for explaining it for me. For us. And he’s right, Scott,” he said, turning to him. “We… put it off. We didn’t want to replace them. We knew that wasn’t possible. We don’t want to be training anyone else, to be honest. But we don’t have a choice. We’re not going to leave you out by yourself. That’s too dangerous. You don’t deserve that. We know that. Peter knows that, as mad as he is right now.”

“But they should,” Stiles repeated petulantly, making Derek chuckle. 

“I know you didn’t mean it like that, Scott, but Stiles is right. You really do have to be more careful about what you say. That right there is actually what’s showing me you don’t have the kind of control you think you do. It’s not all about running around and us doing drills, okay? It’s about control on all levels. You maybe have one. And I’m trying to help you with the others, but you gotta help yourself too. You have to trust me.”

“Should I go apologize?” Scott implored. 

“No,” Derek said with a sigh. “He’ll be fine. He just needs time. He’s the Alpha and he didn’t want to be. This just reminds him of why.” 

“He… didn’t want to be?” Stiles asked before he could stop himself. 

“Well, I mean, it was supposed to be me, but I wasn’t old enough.” 

“And now?” Scott interjected. 

“Now I guess I could, but we never talked about it. Never wanted to either. This just… brings up a bunch of bad shit nobody wanted to relive, and now we have to because we need to keep Beacon Hills safe. That’s always been our job. That will always be our job.”

“That’s a sucky job,” Stiles announced. 

“Yeah, believe me, if I could resign, I totally would,” Derek said, forcing a teasing tone that no one bought into. “But this is our life.” He issued another deep sigh, before looking out to the tree line on the other side of the house. “Let me go talk to him.”

Stiles and Scott nodded as Derek disappeared without another word, leaving them truly alone for the first time that day. 

Stiles wasted no time rounding on Scott. “I know you’re dealing with a lot, but you need to fucking behave. They’re giving you everything here, Scott. We’d be lost without them. I’d probably be dead. So… ya know… cut it out.”

“I didn’t…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Stiles said with a wave of his hand. “I’m tired of your excuses. Just stop. Get your head out of your ass before you’re all by yourself. It’s… it’s not about you and Allison all the time.”

Stiles didn’t bother to wait for a response on that one, knowing it was better to leave Scott stewing in his own mistake so he could truly understand the depth of it. He’d had to do it a few times after his own mom died and Scott didn’t truly get how hard it was for Stiles. Not that he wanted him to either. It was a wild catch-22 that had almost ended their friendship once upon a time.

And here they were again, with Scott no wiser than the last time they had gone through this shit. Stiles knew that he had been forced to grow up faster than most people his age, but Scott always reminded him just how much of a maturity gap there was between them. And he hated it. For both of them. 

He didn’t like being reminded that if he had met Scott recently, instead of kindergarten, they might not be friends. But it was hard to ignore when he pulled this shit. 

When he made it back to the porch, he picked everything up off the deck and forced himself to get back to work. He didn’t even look up as he heard Scott pacing and mumbling something, determined not to give him any help.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but Stiles was almost finished with the last bit of homework he had when Derek and Peter reappeared and Scott finally stopped pacing. 

“Peter, I am so sorry,” Scott said as soon as they were visible. “I wasn’t thinking and it was so dumb and…”

Peter put a hand up, a smile on his face. “Scott, it’s all right. I’m sorry too,” he began. “I shouldn’t have let it get to me like that. But, I hope you see now why it’s so important to keep control. Even the most experienced of us have trouble maintaining it sometimes.”

“I understand,” Scott said, nodding emphatically. 

Peter reached into his pocket next and pulled something out that Stiles couldn’t quite make out in the darkness that surrounded them now, but Scott’s next set of words made it clear what had been exchanged. And it made Stiles laugh. 

“Did you… kill this rabbit?”

“No,” Peter said between chuckles, “I didn’t. Talia, a long time ago, gave me that when we were kids. We both had a good luck charm. A grounding element. She was my sister first, before she was anyone’s mother, and we took care of each other. It’s… it’s helped me a lot, but I don’t actually need it anymore.” 

“Thanks,” Scott said, his voice shaking slightly. “I’ll keep it safe.”

“I know you will,” Peter agreed. “But right now we need to take a break and get some food. A huge Italian dinner is headed this way, requested by this big hunk of man over here.”

He patted Derek’s shoulder when he said that, making Derek visibly uncomfortable. Something that even Stiles could see from his position on the porch. 

“What… did you lose a bet or something, Peter?” Stiles teased. 

Derek grinned wide as they all walked back his way. “Why, that’s exactly what happened, Stiles. Peter here thought he could flirt his way past Scott’s mom to get into the morgue to check out that clerk guy and she shut him down so hard. It was hilarious.”

Stiles guffawed at the admission as they came back into the lone light still on above Stiles’ head. “That’s fantastic,” he admitted. “When was this?”

“Uh, like, Monday morning,” Derek continued. “She didn’t say anything, Scott?”

“You flirted with my mom?” he asked, completely disgusted by the prospect. “Peter, that’s…”

“That’s what?” he challenged. “Do not say gross. Do not.”

Derek and Stiles both laughed even louder as they walked inside, shutting the patio door behind everyone. 

As they all gathered around the island, waiting for the doorbell to ring with their feast, Stiles couldn’t help but look around at each of their faces and try to remember how any of this had come to be. He knew they wouldn’t have chosen this particular path, but now that they were on it, he couldn’t see how it could’ve happened any other way.

Stiles Stilinski was a big believer in everything happening for a reason, and even though he wasn’t sure what it was this time, it was clear there was one.

**Author's Note:**

> P.S. If you have any questions or concerns regarding differences in canon and our fanon rewrite, please leave us a comment. We'll answer each one! Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> P.P.S. A special thanks to the show writers involved in this episode: [@WhenAngelsFall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhenAngelsFall/profile) and [@GrimReaperLover11](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrimReaperlover11/pseuds/GrimReaperlover11)
> 
> You can also hang out with me on Tumblr and request things here: [the-galaxy-collector](https://the-galaxy-collector.tumblr.com)
> 
> Or at my _Teen Wolf_ Discord Server here: [The Beacon Hills Preserve](https://discord.gg/xm24uP6)


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